


5 4 3 2 1 (ficlet collection)

by annejumps



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bottom Erik, Dom/sub, Drabble Collection, Drunken Flirting, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five ficlets, from 500 words to 100 words, in a variety of settings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 500 words: subdrop or something like it

Erik wakes before dawn. Charles is next to him, so deeply asleep that there's no touch from his mind, no faint undercurrent of him gently and subtly present. At least one of them slept well, Erik thinks, a little sourly.

Erik aches all over: he has bruises on his wrists, bite marks on his shoulders, and aching thighs. What felt like badges of honor last night -- good, deep aches, bright sparks of feeling as Charles reminded him you are here, you are mine -- are simply pains this morning.

He feels alone, and takes a deep breath at the thought. He hasn't felt alone in so long... since before Charles. Charles had made him feel so good last night, truly made him, wrung it from him. Now, with that euphoria gone, he's simply drained, inert. The contrast to how he'd felt when frantically murmuring _yours, Charles, yours_ is stark.

How long he'd delayed breaking, yet how eagerly he'd broken. In the faint light of approaching dawn, this seems gauche, embarrassing. He rolls over, facing away from Charles, wondering how he can possibly hide this from him.

He feels a soft brush from Charles' mind then, as if on cue, Charles' hand stroking down his back and then his arm over him. Charles nuzzles his neck, and after a moment Erik tenses -- just like that he was prepared to be receptive again, wanting. At last, Charles picks up that something's amiss.

"Why so blue, dearest," he murmurs against Erik's neck. “Hmmm?” Charles wraps him up tight in his arms, and Erik begrudgingly admits to himself that it's what he needed.

"Did I hurt you?" Charles kisses a place on Erik's neck that's tender from stubble burn, and Erik shivers.

"No," Erik answers. "Well, yes," and Charles chuckles knowingly (a bit smugly, Erik thinks), "but that's not the problem." 

"I'm sorry, my love," Charles says, "I didn't realize you were in distress." He sighs, contrite, giving Erik a squeeze. "I should have. You can wake me up, you know, if you need me."

"No, you were asleep. It's fine." He sounds a little breathless, he knows -- Charles’ endearments overstimulate him.

"I can't help but feel responsible." Charles strokes a hand through his hair. Feeling petted makes Erik a bit resentful, but he doesn’t stop Charles from doing it. "It's the chemicals in your brain -- you hit such a high last night that you've crashed, and--"

"Charles," Erik says, "I don't need a lecture."

“Right. You’re right.” Charles, thankfully and surprisingly, goes quiet, returning to stroking his fingers soothingly through Erik’s hair. He’s still pressed tight against him. Erik lets himself enjoy how anchored Charles makes him feel, like this. Incrementally, he lets himself relax against Charles. He almost dozes off. 

“Better?” Charles asks, an indefinite amount of time later.

“Mmm,” Erik allows. “Maybe. Eventually.” He shifts back against Charles, dipping his head forward slowly, shivering at the light touch of Charles’ lips at the nape of his neck.


	2. 400 words: gryffindor and slytherin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://charles-x-erik.tumblr.com/post/126587384150/okay-first-of-all-i-am-terribly-sorry-that-it) by charles-x-erik.

The fires were low in the Slytherin common room. It was even colder and damper than usual at this late hour in midwinter, and Erik pulled his robes more closely around himself as he walked down the stairs toward the black leather sofas in the middle of the room. He took no special pains to quiet his footsteps.

The green lamps gave the place an eerie glow; the contrast with the warm red and gold brocade of his own common room always took him aback. It really did feel like a dungeon -- a fitting atmosphere considering its inhabitants, he thought, with the possible exception of--

“You’re not supposed to be here,” came a low, amused voice from the sofa that faced away from him. 

“Shouldn’t have given me the password, then,” Erik said, leaping over the back of the couch with what he felt was exceptional grace. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said by way of explanation, settling to rest his head in Charles’ lap. 

“And you thought visiting me in the Slytherin common room would somehow help with that?” After putting his book away, Charles, as he always did, started stroking his fingers through Erik’s hair. Erik folded his hands over his stomach and once again thought how jarring Charles’ bright blue eyes and exceptionally pink mouth were in this dull green and black place.

“I thought if I’d be unable to sleep, it might as well be here,” Erik said.

“But you hate it here,” Charles teased. “It’s cold, it’s dark, we’re all horrible… the list goes on.”

“It’s not all bad,” Erik said, declining to give specifics and instead asking “D’you want to play chess?” 

Charles had taught him to play wizard’s chess ages ago, something that had completely dazzled him as a Muggle-born. In public, they played it with all the animosity necessary to convince anyone they couldn’t stand each other. 

“Chess? At one in the morning?” Charles raised a brow. “We’ve got classes tomorrow, you know. Besides, I wouldn’t want to waste any time alone with you on chess.”

Erik sat up, grinning, and Charles took him by his robes to pull him close. “Are you certain you want your pureblood Slytherin lips sullied by the kiss of a Muggle-born Gryffindor?”

“When you put it like that… yes. Sully away,” Charles breathed, smiling as their lips met. 

Above them, the chains of the chandelier rattled faintly.


	3. 300 words: the fae

Erik usually carried cold iron on his walks through the wood, to ward off the fae. It must work, he would think to himself wryly, as he hadn’t seen any yet.

Today, he was beginning to think that might change. Because he’d forgotten the iron. He felt naked without it.

The sun had set low in a blaze of red and violet, the sky above rapidly darkening into indigo. He was having to blink now, the faint rose and gold in the west fading into blue, the impending gloom forcing his eyes to seek out the dwindling light. Stars were just beginning to make themselves visible. 

The only sound but for his footfall crunching in the leaf litter on the path was the distant hooting of an owl, far off in the dense trees. His hand curled tightly in his coat pocket, where he’d otherwise be holding the iron.

Not much further to go, he told himself.

Behind him, the sound of a horse’s hooves, yet no smell of one, no sense of its presence or sound of its nickering and snuffling. Dread pricked up the hairs on the back of his neck, yet he kept walking.

He then heard a voice both in his head and in the woods at the same time, an uncanny voice, inhuman.

_You walk in my woods at dusk, alone? My friend, you are either foolish or brave._

Erik turned, to see a pale man -- no, not a man -- on a white steed, wearing only breeches, eyes glowing blue in the low light.

“Can’t I be both?” Erik said, though his heart was hammering. 

_I’ve been looking for someone foolish and brave,_ the fae said. _Come with me_.

Erik was never seen outside the wood again.


	4. 200 words: red hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://klassyfassy.tumblr.com/post/125821350565/why-do-so-many-men-have-red-beards-but-not-red) by klassyfassy.

The man he’d been eyeing at the far end of the bar -- well, they’d been eyeing each other -- sidles over to him and says, close to his ear to be heard over the noise, “Em cee one arr.”

“I beg your pardon?” Erik turns to him, squinting. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought.

“Em cee one arr,” the man repeats, pointing to Erik’s short beard. “It’s your red hair mutation.” Oh, MC1R. “And mine,” he says, gesturing to his own intensely ginger beard. He has awfully blue eyes, bright with amusement. The man takes a drink and licks a bit of foam from his very pink lips. “Charles Xavier,” he adds, holding out his free hand, which Erik shakes. 

“Erik Lehnsherr,” Erik says.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Charles says. “Looks like we each have one copy of the MC1R gene--” he gestures to the hair on the top of his head, which is dark brown, not ginger at all, “which means we’re what’s called _heterozygous_.” He then has the cheek to wink.

Erik changes a laugh into a cough. “I think you’ll find I’m… bi-zygous.”

“Oh, cheers,” Charles says, not missing a beat, “so am I.”


	5. 100 words: alpha

Charles is surrounded by open books spread all over the table when he picks up the captivating scent.

He looks up, breathing it in deep, senses snapping to attention and honing in on… a slim man facing away from him, walking in the Sciences section. From his thoughts Charles can tell he’s trying to distract himself from his impending heat with his studies.

Charles subtly nudges his mind, gets him to turn around. The man meets his gaze, and is transfixed.

Charles raises his chin, arches a brow. The man walks toward him as if they’re two magnets, drawn together.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I think AO3 and Google Docs might have different ways of counting words, ha!


End file.
